Where Is The Sun Now?
by Still Shots
Summary: Denmark's gone. And at the end of the day, all that there is left is them trying to cope with the loss, guilt and regret that was left within them./DenNor.SuFin.IceDen,if you wanna./"Death eats away a part of a person, no matter how small or big it was."
1. Første

**_Where Is The Sun Now?_**

* * *

><p>Nobody<em> told them that Life isn't fair, and so far, nobody reminded them that Death isn't that fair, either.<em>

* * *

><p><em>He<em> was a nation.

They didn't expect _him_ to die.

A cold hand landed on his shoulder, as he watched Finland cling unto Sweden.

Hanatamago is silent.

"_It isn't your fault, you know_." Iceland's voice is soft, and Norway laughed softly.

There was no humor, though. _Such lies._

He knows that it was their fault.

It was their fault because they tore themselves away from him. Because even though they knew that _he _needs them, they carried on with their own lives, and they haven't even noticed that _he _is slowly breaking.

They left him. _He_ left this world.

_He _was a nation.

_Was._

* * *

><p>Death eats away a part of a person, no matter how small or big it was. It eats away whatever it can, even if it meant reducing that person into dirt.<p>

In Norway's case, he might as well rot, like what would be happening to Denmark, the moment they lowered the casket.

Norway felt disgusted.

The thought of Denmark being left to rot under the ground isn't appealing, because even though their... 'bond' faded away a long time ago, he knows that Denmark doesn't deserve this. He shouldn't be inside that _bloody box _, and he shouldn't be place under the goddamned ground and be left there to rot, and be forgotten by others as soon as another nation starts to replace his role.

Time flies too fast, that it seems to bury them alive.

"I just can't believe this," Finland whispered, as they stared at the flat soil with Denmark's name on it. "I could never imagine Denmark doing that."

"That?" Iceland said. "It has a name. Suicide. And I know it's hard, but there is no other explanation. You saw him himself." Finland visibly stiffens, his grip on Sweden tightening. The taller man said nothing.

"There's always another explanation." Norway finally spoke, his voice just as tired as their's. "He won't kill himself- you should know that."

But it was a pathetic attempt- He's not even sure if it's them he is assuring, or just himself.

There was no more words that could describe the silence around them.

Cold. Deafening.

_Dead. _

* * *

><p>He sighed audibly, as he picked up the phone.<p>

Denmark has been calling him for the last two days. And he still is.

"Hello? Norge?" His tone was cheery, still. "So you finally answered, huh?"

Norway inwardly groaned. Looking over his paperworks, he knew that he have to finish this. Fast. "Keep it short." His voice was cold, although colder than he intended to.

But his patience is slowly running out, and he could feel migraine inching closer.

There was a brief silence on the other line, before Denmark spoke in a soft voice, "I'm leaving."

Norway was starting to feel the migraine. He desperately wanted to rest now. Or maybe a cup of coffee. "That's good, then."

He hung up when he got no response. _That would be the last call I would answer._

Denmark didn't call anymore after that.

* * *

><p>Finland was ready to wipe away another tear.<p>

He was tired from crying, but every thing keeps on haunting him; the signs he missed, the things he disregarded.

Sweden still haven't talked since the incident. Norway is lost in silent regret. Iceland is somewhere.

And here he is, crying to himself in his room.

He can't help but feel like his death was partly his fault.

_After all, did he not ignored him, too? _

As polite as he was to him, he must admit that he tends to get away from him. He doesn't even know why.

He felt utterly pathetic. Mean. Guilty.

_Stupid._

He sighed as he made his way down to the kitchen, hoping that a glass of water might help him.

He paused and closed his eyes.

_He saw it. _

_And it would never leave him._

* * *

><p>"Denmark?"<p>

Finland decided to visit Denmark that day- he knows that being alone is really lonely. And it hurts him to think that it is partly his fault.

And his own guilt is pushing him further down.

So he'll visit. Just this one time.

"Denmark?" He called out once more. The house reeks of coffee.

He saw an unused mug and a spoon on the counter.

_Maybe he was still asleep?_ He mused, as he made his way to the stairs.

His back is turned to him when he found him. Denmark's back was facing him...but his face looking right at him, his eyes open and glassy…one lid half closed. A trail of dried, flacking, blood ran from the top of his head to his neck where it disappeared from his sight.

His body's numb. He couldn't move; he felt like his heart was going to explode any moment now.

Breathing suddenly bacame hard.

_He had fallen_; that was his first thought. His second is that there must be something he could do to help him…_but his body wouldn't move. _

And he knew he was dead.

Finland shakily walked over to him, and closed his eyes.

_And he knew that those empty eyes will haunt him._

* * *

><p>Iceland stood over the floor.<p>

The police have already left this place after they decided that the case was a suicide.

Unconciously, he started walking upstairs, and he didn't fail to realize that the scent of coffee is still lingering around the house.

He entered his room, and a cool breeze met his face. He walked around the room a few times, before settling down the bed.

He only got a few memory about Denmark, and he knows that he is practically a good person.

Obnoxious, yes, but he is the kind of person that you would want to keep in you life.

That's why he hated the way the other Nordics ignore the guy, deep down. He wanted to shake them and yell to them, in hopes to wake them up.

He wanted to tell them the way how Denmark's mask crumble, piece by piece, everytime they pass by him without greeting. Everytime they disregard him.

He could see him breaking. Cracking. Falling down, like Humpty Dumpty, only faster.

He could see his face, hidden by the sickening smile that seems to be frozen in it, contain the bits of pain and hurt that was left whenever they forget him.

This is different from that Canadian. He still have his family and a French man caring for him.

Denmark was abandoned by his own.

And Iceland knows that what they have done to Denmark is heartbreaking.

Unforgivable.

He's only a carbon copy of himself. The person they see smiling that... _plastic smile that they never notice _is a desperate remain of what Denmark is.

He's not happy. He's not cheerful. He's not...

He's miserable.

That's what left with him. His loneliness. His constant feelings of rejection.

_And it seems like he was passing it down to them._

Small, tiny drops of water fell down unto his lap, as he let himself break down. That's all he can do now.

He could at least cry for him.

The night is still young, but the easy breeze that surrounded him make him feel older than he was.

Outside, by the door, a certain Norwegian silently peered through the tiny gap. He could feel his own tears.

_Denmark, you're breaking us._

* * *

><p>"Hallo, Denmark." Iceland's voice was never a lively one, but Denmark was happy to hear his voice.<p>

Whatever the fuck 'happy' means.

"Iceland!" He said, his voice being cheery not because of emotion, but because of mannerism.

_He was using it too much to hide his pain, that it comes out naturally now._

"Why did you call?" on the other side, Iceland decided not to bring up how fake he sounded to him.

"I'm leaving."

There was no response from Iceland. Denmark waited, but the other said nothing. "Goodnight then, Iceland."

He hung up. Iceland closed his phone.

* * *

><p>He was woken up with his phone beeping. It was morning, and the sky is barely lightened up.<p>

"Finland?"

There was silence, before Finland finally said with a strangled sob, "_Denmark's gone._"

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

I know. I write death fics too frequently, and they end up like crap.

And what's worse is, I can't stop.

Anyway, as you can see, it's still not finished, hm? Should I continue it, or leave it here to rot?

I seriously need reviews on this one- I am thrilled about this fic, in fact. So, please...?

_I don't own Hetalia. _

_And also, I'm not good at the genre._


	2. Anden

_**Where Is The Sun Now?**_

* * *

><p><em>You can't take back what we never had. One can't come back. I can't. Pretty sad, right? ...I doubt you are.<em>

* * *

><p>No one said a word.<p>

They were seperated; all of them. But no one said a word.

Sweden is still silent. Finland is haunted with those eyes- those empty, _dead _eyes. Iceland stayed at Denmark's room.

_Norway is breaking apart._

Iceland noticed that he was there, but he didn't said a word. Norway entered the room.

The sky is dark. They haven't checked the time.

Iceland closed his eyes.

"I thought he'll never die." Norway had never sound so broken before.

The younger one looked at his brother, who is now poking through stuffs, as if finding something.

"You thought wrong." He simply said.

Norway never replied.

* * *

><p>He doesn't know why, but he felt the need to find something associated with Denmark. Now that he is-<p>

Norway stiffens. _He can't._

_He can't say it._

In the past, he have always wished that Denmark would leave him alone. His love is overwhelming. He was afraid-

He was afraid that he doesn't deserve such thing.

He was afraid that he won't be enough.

_Afraid that he can't love him enough._

Denmark almost always proclaim his love for him. _But what do he does? Shot him down every fucking_-

Norway shook his head. Now is not the time for such things.

_But it is._

Time is worthless now, anyway. He lost so much already.

Iceland is still there. The other Nordics are still there.

But they were all broken. Empty. Vulnerable.

Everything is a blur. Time passes by, but nothing changes. They were all the same for the world, but it's different for them.

_Too different._

Norway quickly looked down when he heard something fall, and picked up the notebook.

He flipped through it, but nothing was written. The pages isn't that old, too- it looks well preserved.

The pages were blank.

_Until something caught his eye._

There, in the center of the last page, were words that are written in such familiar words that he could recognize it in a heartbeat.

_Alene kan være den måde, jeg dør, men du vil være der, ved min side._

_Alone may be the way I die, but you will be there, by my side._

Iceland swears he heard his brother cry.

* * *

><p>It's the tears, he swear to god, that is keeping him from speaking.<p>

_Smooth move, Sweden._

He never cry.

He never laugh.

He just argue with Denmark.

And those tiny moments, no matter how much it truly angers him, were those moments that he treasured that includes Denmark.

His attempts to make him laugh, and other small things that happens everyday.

_He like those moments._

He like those moments as much as he like the moments that he share with Finland.

And the thoughts of it never possibly happening again bothers him.

But he can't break down, can he?

He can't. For the others. For Finland, Norway, and Iceland.

_For himself._

* * *

><p>"Fin,"<p>

Finland woke up,eyes wide; his shaking figure and terrified face making Sweden more concerned. The smaller one was crying, and he was sweating.

Next thing he knew, the boy is in his arms, sobbing, and his shirt is wet.

They didn't said anything to each other. They just held each other in comfort, since they understand.

_They have the same pain, yet so different, too._

Fin couldn't forget those eyes that held the pain that was hidden with smiles they thought was real.

Sweden is being haunted by the past- the regret and guilt refusing to leave him along with the memories that was left.

There was nothing they could do but hold each other, since thay could only find comfort with each other.

Outside, the wind is freezing and the moon shone brightly.

* * *

><p>Time is fleeting.<p>

It moves fast, but slow, as well.

Denmark woke alone. He then went down to make coffee.

Catching his reflection in the mirror, Denmark looked away.

Dull. Useless. Weak.

The same routine—always.

Upstairs, he looked at the reflection, finally. His bath has been lukewarm.

Like his life.

He looks dead.

_"I'm leaving."_

_"That's good, then."_

He looks pathetic. Useless. Weak. Dull. It's all the same.

Failure, too, was a word he could use. And did use. He was a failure.

He slowly walked downstairs to get his coat.

_But he never made it._

Lukewarm. Disappointing. Dull. That may have been his life.

But there was only one word to describe his death.

_Cold._

* * *

><p>It's face-to-face.<p>

He have never seen Denmark look so...

Stressed.

But his face kept it's stoic masquerade, his concern and nervousness kept inside. Hidden.

"So, what did you call me here for?"

"I'm leaving."

Like Denmark's previous conversations, there's a long silence.

"I see."

There's silence again.

"Can you stay for a bit?" Denmark looked at him, hopeful.

It almost made him stay.

_Almost._

"I can't."

Denmark looked away, then faced him again, with a sad smile now. "Alright then."

_Had he known what would happen, he would've stayed._

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

That was rather short.

Ah you guys, thank you for the reviews- made me happy. **I'm publishing this because I might be gone for a while. This is to make it up to you, if ever.**

**I know I just published this, but I'm gonna update it, da? Thank you.**

_Don't own Hetalia, though._


	3. Tredje

_**Where Is The Sun Now?**_

* * *

><p><em>With trembling hands, I held you close, but how did you manage to slip away? You won't come back now, and I'm trapped in this rotten place.<em>

* * *

><p>He lied.<p>

He lied that night, when Denmark called him and said that he's _'leaving'_.

He didn't mean what he said.

It's not fine. It's not 'good'.

It's torture.

He don't want him to leave.

_But as always, he just have to be cold._

And because of that, he lost him.

_And the world just became pointless, just like that._

* * *

><p>A loud crash woke Norway up. He had fallen asleep on Denmark's couch.<p>

He widen his eyes. It was brimmed with hope, as surprising as it may be.

He ran to the source of the noise- the kitchen.

_No, it couldn't be-_

"D-DENMARK!"

He bursted through the doors, hoping to see the Dane.

_He didn't._

Iceland looked up to his brother- he's on the floor, picking up the utensils. His face softens and he hung his head.

Norway stood for a while, and then he laughed. He held his right eye, and slid down the wall.

_Tears. There are tears. _

Iceland looked away. "He won't come back, brother."

Norway's laughed was soon replaced by silent sobs, as he fully buried his head on his arms.

"I just thought it's just a dream."

"It isn't."

_I know,_ Norway thought as Iceland picked up the fallen kitchen utensils.

_But I can't help but wish that it is._

* * *

><p>The clock is ticking, but neither one of them looked up to it.<p>

Because if they do, they'll know how many hours have passed.

And it'll become a habit.

Time isn't important right now. It'll pass.

They'll be old.

People die.

Dead people would be forgotten.

_People._

Things end. It can't be helped—relationships, friendships…life. It all ends, eventually.

It happens.

_And it's over._

You can't live in the past, you can't live in the present, you can't look to the future—you have no future.

* * *

><p>Sweden stood infront of Denmark's grave.<p>

He place a purple Hyacinth.

He inhaled.

"Sorry."

A strong wind blew unto his face.

He looked back down, and chuckled without humor.

"You're killing us, you know."

The wind died down.

* * *

><p>Denmark stared at his reflection.<p>

They hated him, right?

Yes, they hate him. They hate this guy he is seeing in this mirror.

They hate this guy and his efforts to reconnect with them.

_They hate this guy that couldn't even smile now._

"Would they care when you're dead?" He murmured.

The other didn't answer.

"You'll probably be happy when you're dead. No more pain. Even when you're alone when you die, you'll be happy."

He hung his head low.

_Die. Just ...die._

* * *

><p>The snow outside was crisp, clean and pure. Norway sat on the window ledge, letting the chilled air of winter cleanse him.<p>

The voice startled him and he almost lost his balance on the ledge. Angry, he turned to see who had disturbed the peace.

And was dismayed to find it was Denmark.

"Don't you have a dungeon to haunt?"

"So cheerful." Denmark leaned against the wall.

Ignoring him, Norway watched new snow fall, the crystal flakes swirling and twirling—twirling. Sighing, he held out his hand. A small flake drifted lazily and landed in his palm, melting from the warmth of his hand.

"Easy, isn't it?"

Norway turned. Denmark was watching him. "What is?"

"To destroy."

Snow fell. Quiet. Peaceful. Sad.

_Then Norway woke up._

* * *

><p>Rain silently fall down outside.<p>

The remaining four of the Nordics are tired.

They were tired of crying. Dreaming. Wishing. Breaking apart.

_But they can't do a single thing. _

They shatter.

All four are empty and lonely.

_Winter would approach them, soon. And it'll be exactly what it is supposed to be. Bitter and cold._

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

_And I found out that our trip is cancelled!_

_As a celebration I shall update this. I'm so shocked when they said that we won't go anymore~_

_That means there would be school tomorrow, but, whatever._

_I shall be taking away the A/N soon. _

_And if you thought Iceland isn't bothered by the Dane's death in this chapter, You shall wait for the next chapter. _


	4. Fjerde

_**Where Is The Sun now?**_

* * *

><p><em>When seasons change <em>

_It hurts sometimes _

_To find where you begin._

* * *

><p>Iceland once took refuge by Denmark's place.<p>

The Dane was really happy when Iceland appeared on his doorway. He welcomed the little boy, and let him stay.

It was storming that day.

As fearless as he looks, Iceland is afraid of storms.

He remembered that he stood outside Denmark's room, biting his lips, thinking about backing out...

When the loud roar of thunder forced him to knock and enter the room.

Denmark is already sleeping; Iceland thought it was wrong to just come in and took one step away, only to have an another goddamned thunder make him briskly walk to the bed and cling unto Denmark.

He heard a soft laugh amidst the loud pattering of the rain, and big pair of arms held him.

_Safe. Warm._

_Everything's suddenly okay._

* * *

><p>He looked over the living room.<p>

Within the time of him picking up the utensils, Norway left the kitchen and staggered to the couch.

Outside, snow falls sadly; the silence reigned over the kingdom of white.

_Sad. Lonely. Quiet._

His lips turned into a thin line.

_"Why are you holding me so tight?"_

_"I'm afraid."_

_"...Don't be."_

_Denmark never asked why he was scared._

* * *

><p>Iceland opened his eyes.<p>

He has been finding himself in Denmark's room more often now.

The balcony is open, and the moon is shining with the stars.

A gust of wind blew.

"Denmark?"

His voice is revealing it's real sound- as scratchy and tired as the other's.

He felt something cold on his cheeks.

_Tears._

_He has been crying in his sleep._

* * *

><p>Iceland is sitting down in one of Denmark's chairs in the kitchen, and he stared at the said person who is preparing food.<p>

He shifted in his seat.

_Is he dreaming? He doesn't even remember..._

The Dane smiled and pushed the plate in front of Iceland.

Is he a ghost? A hallucination? A simple effect of yearning for someone too much?

He swallowed. "We...we buried you. You're..."

He looked down at the sandwich. Two triangles of bread.

"You're gone. Everything's different now."

Denmark reached over and placed his hand on Iceland's cheek.

He grimaced, as if the pain is passing through him.

And then he spoke in the same voice; The voice that seems to be very far. But right now, it's within his reach.

_"Things can be fixed."_

* * *

><p>Finland looked outside.<p>

Snow. Winter. Bitter. Pain.

_Cold. Just like that morning._

It's already dark outside- He can't even remember if he saw the sun shine this morning.

Did it rise? How come it's rays didn't reach him? How come it doesn't cheer him anymore?

_Does it even matter?_

The sickening silence continued to embrace Finland.

_Everything seems to be described as 'dead' nowdays._

* * *

><p>He knows.<p>

He knows that somehow, somewhere, Sweden is breaking.

Finland is shattered.

Norway is destroyed.

The task to be stronger seems to be getting hard recently, his resolution fading.

He even cry in his sleep.

Everyone is breaking down. _He is starting to fall, too._

* * *

><p>It's night. The fourth day since Denmark died. Approximately 93 hours.<p>

Norway surrendered to the clock, it's sounds only adding to the emptiness he is feeling.

93 hours. Four days.

He held his face, and hung his head low.

Time is ticking.

* * *

><p>He is crying. He finally fell, the bottle that kept his emotions shattering and scattered all around the ground.<p>

He is crying now, because he fully realized that Denmark-

_Died._

He curled his lips in disgust.

_Died._

The word felt disgusting in both his mouth and his mind.

_Died._

Died.

_Denmark died._

Iceland clenched his hands.

* * *

><p>Norway was the last one to know.<p>

He was about to leave and go visit Denmark.

It's been two days since he said he was 'leaving'. Norway is getting scared.

His phone rang as he just finished putting on his coat.

"Hello?"

Finland's voice sounded shaky and disturbed.

Norway's face produced a small frown. "Finland?"

"Norway, oh god, we didn't know _where _to reach you."

He always turn his phone off when working- at that moment, he regretted turning it off.

"What's the matter?"

"I-It's...D-Denmark," He heard the boy gulp. "He- oh, god..."

He was crying, gasping.

"Tell me," Norway said."_What?_"

His stomach churned. He felt faint. What...

"He jumped, Norway," It's Sweden's voice. "Finland found him."

"Wha...?"

He heard the sound of the phone being snatched, and for a moment, he heard Finland's distant wail.

The next set of words that came out of Iceland's mouth sent him flying.

_Out of this world._

"He died, brother," He said. "Denmark's gone."

* * *

><p>There were once a memory of Norway that he just remembered then.<p>

It was spring, or maybe summer or autumn, but definitely not winter that day.

Denmark's sick, and although they were worried, they didn't show it.

Finally, Norway went and took care of the guy.

Denmark's too tired; but he weakly smile to him.

The next day, Denmark only said one thing as Norway prepared to leave.

"I love you," He said, his voice barely above a whisper, and still scratchy.

It pulled Norway's heartstrings, but he masked it.

_He just have to be cold, as usual._

So he scowled, and said, "I'll love you when you die."

When the Norwegian left, the Dane sighed and covered his eyes.

A watery smile.

_He's crying._

_"When I die, huh?"_

* * *

><p><em>Oh, and your heart releases, <em>

_You won't fall to pieces _

_And your breath comes crashing in ._


	5. Femte

_**Where Is The Sun Now?**_

_I could see the images that were lindering in my mind. Please don't let me go, I desperately need you._

* * *

><p>"They'll die."<p>

Those were Iceland's words when Norway set out to bring these flowers when the earliest signs of dawn is illuminating the sky. Nonetheless, he ventures towards the grave, and laid down the fragile flowers.

* * *

><p>He glared down.<p>

Everything in the cemetery seems to reek of depression. Sadness.

_Loss._

They carry the memories that is part joy and part sorrow; memories that will never be repeated.

Memories that would forever be memories.

Memories that were buried, along with the person that made that memory up, leaving those who are alive haunted.

He quickly placed his hands over his eyes. _Could tears be frozen before they even escape your eyes?_

Peering through the gaps of his hands, he saw that specks of snows already covered the flowers.

_Last gift of the living to the dead._

This would be as far as he could reach out to Denmark.

* * *

><p>"Finland?"<p>

It was the first time that Finland isn't dreaming of those eyes.

Yes, he is dreaming of them right now, but they look so alive.

As well as the Denmark in front of him.

"Why are you crying?"

His tone is gentle, soft. He is smiling at him, just like in the past.

"S-sorry."

He tilted his head. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Finland shook his head.

_Face the truth._

"W-we left you. You...you tried so hard , but..." He refuse to look ahead. To him."We were stupid."

A hand rested itself on his head.

A soft laugh.

_"It's alright."_

* * *

><p>Finland stared at his hands.<p>

_It's alright._

_A voice so soft; so caring._

He forgave them so easily.

He cherished them. Raised them. He was always there for them.

How could they pushed him away, just like that?

His lips formed a thin line.

A wind blew.

He closed his eyes.

_I'm really sorry._

* * *

><p>"Norway."<p>

Prussia approached the nation, holding out a piece of paper. He looks sober; serious.

Quiet.

Norway took the paper, too tired to ask, or maybe he just simply want to forget everything.

"From Denmark," Prussia said, and he sighed.

Norway looked at the paper.

_Vergeben. _

"What does it mean?"

"Forgive."

"Who? Him?"

"Yourself," The albino said.

Norway looked back down the paper.

"You know, when I drinked with him once, he was praying while he was knocked out. It was nothing but whisper, but I heard it."

He held out his hands as Norway turned to look at him.

A snowflake landed.

"He prayed you would come back."

_Norway contemplated if breaking down in front of Prussia is fine._

* * *

><p>"It's sad, West."<p>

Prussia's eyes was closed.

_Could you, Prussia? Give it to him if something happens?_

Germany remained silent.

"I didn't even asked him what will happen..."

_"It's not your fault."_

The albino let out a breathy laugh.

It's different, too.

Silence.

"Almost, then."

"Still not your fault."

"But it's still sad."

Germany looked outside.

Snow.

Unlike before, he answered this time.

"Ja."

And he meant it.

* * *

><p>Snow. Snow. Snow. Snow.<p>

_Wherever he look, Sweden could see snow._

The snow never failed to fascinate him.

Even though there are countless of pain, hurt and loss that occured above the solemn fields, even though there are countless of anonymous blood spilled over it, he anticipates the snow.

It calms him.

Although it reminds him a lot of moments that time buried, he never despised it.

Now he wonders why he want the season to just go away, along with the sadness and guilt that was piled up within them when it came.

He just want it to pass, to take it all away, so he could just...

He sighed.

_He can't let go. Not yet._

* * *

><p>"What is an echo?"<p>

It was a lazy afternoon, and Norway was sitting on the couch with a certain Dane.

"The persistance of a sound after the source has stopped," Norway recited.

"When is an echo formed?"

Norway glanced at Denmark."When it's silent and the other sounds were absorbed."

He don't know why Denmark is asking these questions, but he decided not to say anything about it.

The Dane laughed, his face beaming to the Norwegian.

"You know a lot of things, huh, Norge?"

_Norway swear that his heart skipped a beat._

* * *

><p>"Ah, damnit."<p>

Denmark muttered, as he picked up a fallen item.

He was lonely. _As usual._

He was alone. _Of course._

To avoid peculiar and depressing thoughts ("_I'm the happiest country. Right._"), he decided to clean up the house. He thought that if Norway was here-

He paused.

_He would never love me. He would never come back._

_Actually, none of them will._

Sighing, he turned the thing he picked up and saw-

Saw his picture...with the other Nordics.

The last image he managed to take with all of them in it.

_Last memory with them._

He laughed without humor as he place the picture back to it's position. He tried to smile, but it turned out as a grimace.

"I'm such a deluded moron."

_He stopped cleaning after that._

* * *

><p>Iceland widened his eyes as he stared at what's infront of him.<p>

Did Norway passed out in the doorway, or did he fell asleep?

_Did that even made sense?_

Sighing, he shook his head and half-dragged, half-carried Norway to Denmark's couch.

After all was settled, he sat down on his usual spot since all of this started; the kitchen.

Biting his lips, he continued reading the notebook he found lying inside the Dane's room.

Norway stirred.

* * *

><p>He was holding Denmark's hand and the said person was talking to him.<p>

"Stay with me."

He unconsciously said, as he held him tighter.

He heard Denmark laugh those one of the obnoxious, lively laugh that he missed so badly.

He grinned at the Norwegian playfully. "Oh, so now_ you _want to be with_ me_?"

You might think that he was being mean, but he was just being Denmark. It was true that Norway has always been pushing him away, refusing his affections and ignoring his love.

But that was because in his mind, Denmark built this illusion that he would be always be there, and he admit that he took that for granted.

_And he also admit that he regret that._

Before he could answer, though, everything started fading away.

Denmark's grin was reduced into a small, sincere smile.

That was the last thing he remembered before he opened his eyes.

* * *

><p>Denmark smiled at the little boy in his hands.<p>

Iceland is crying.

Apparently, it was storming that day, and Norway have some kind of issues to attend to.

Laughing, he tucked the little boy beside him, and hugged him. Iceland held tightly unto his chest when a thunder roared loudly.

He started humming a random melody, rubbing his hands on the boy's head to soothe him.

He sensed that the boy is slowly calming down.

After a minute of silence, Iceland called him.

"Hm?" He asked, looking down.

"Will I lose you?" Iceland innocently looked at the older one. Softly laughing, he held him closer.

Denmark felt sleep slowly creeping and taking over him,but he whispered something that Iceland never forgot.

_Even until now._

"Don't be ridiculous, Ice," He murmured, obviously drifting asleep.

_"You could never lose your brother."_

* * *

><p>Tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the notebook as he stared outside the snow, heis mind danced around the memories that he have seemingly tucked inside a suitcase that was opened inside the wrong time.<p>

He knows that life is supposed to be unfair, but isn't this too ridiculous?

Days grow shorter and nights are getting longer._ He doesn't even know if the sun is rising anymore._

Ever since Denmark was gone, everything became blurry.

They lost their sense, their colors, their...

Life.

_Did he lie?_

His face tightened, and he looked back down.

_He told me that I can't lose him. _

A sharp intake of breath.

_I know I did. I lost him._

_We all did._

* * *

><p><em>I should've known that what you felt was real, should've known that it was supposed to be infinite. I'm sorry, but that word won't get us anywhere now, would it?<em>


	6. Sjette

_**Where Is The Sun Now?**_

* * *

><p><em>Yay. You have, once again, awoken. Would you like a cup of bitterness and loneliness now?<em>

* * *

><p><em>It might be a little weird to see Denmark in a bookshop, at seven 'o clock in the morning.<em>

It's not planned, really; he is just strolling around after walking down for a cup of coffee, and decided to go around the bookshop for a while.

It's a secondhand bookshop- the books were not arranged according to it's age range, so he was aimlessly looking at the books he could see that were piled up along the aisle.

A bit ironic, actually. One moment, you would see Rapunzel, and the next, you would see a book about greek gods. It's random, and if you look at the arrangement instead of actually finding a book worth of your time, you'll get a good laugh instead.

Denmark isn't feeling cheerful today, and neither is he looking forward for a good laugh. He just want something to lift up his spirits, to just make him feel... _real._

_He wanted to feel real. _

It's been bugging him recently; the empty feeling is eating him whole.

He can't eat right. He can't sleep comfortably. He can't focus.

_But no one pointed it out._

No one said, '_Denmark, there's something wrong with you_.'

He's not going to lie- he do wanted some attention. Because he wanted to be assured that he's not entirely alone.

_But the more he try, the more it says otherwise. The truth hit him like transparent bricks, and he can't help but feel ridiculous himself. _

Shaking his head, he pulled out a book and hastily opened it, eager to put his mind at ease.

But the book seems to like his mood today.

_'All Alone!_

_Whether you like it or not,_

_Alone will be something _

_you'll be quite alone.'_

He gritted his teeth and chucked it back to the shelf.

He continued to walk around the shop for a while, suddenly taking in that all of the books looked abandoned. Old.

_All alone?_

He exited that shop with the book in hands.

* * *

><p>"He did say that you should forgive yourself," Iceland droned, without looking up from he book he was reading.<p>

_It was the same one as yesterday._

There were silence, and Norway briefly thought if someone else is being affected with Denmark's death right now, except the Nordics.

"Did you regret something?" Norway asked, as he stare at the paper in hands.

Silence floated over them. The mental clock Norway had in his mind ticked with the clock outside.

"I do," Iceland said, as he reluctantly placed the book lower. "and it's just like yours."

* * *

><p>Switzerland looked above and his eyes caught a glimpse of his own flag.<p>

He trudged inside the house nonetheless, and he involuntarily let out a grim chuckle.

The death shouldn't affect him that much, really. But he doesn't know why it did.

_He's your cousin, _a voice in his mind chided.

He looked back on his flag.

_It looked so much like his. _

* * *

><p><em>Some people come back to haunt you, no matter how deep you burry them.<em>

_It's not the person, they say. It's the memory that that person created._

_It's like a bomb that detonates once people finally managed to slip away._

_That's the problem with the people that never quite realizes soon enough._

_But who could blame them? No one knew it would happen, anyway._

_But maybe it's the possibilities again; may they knew they could've done something._

_They just didn't move fast enough._

* * *

><p>Evening is settling in, and the sky is an orange smudge of fog and sunsets.<p>

Sweden, alongside with Finland, ventured towards the grave.

_No words were exchanged. No comforts were offered. _

Snow crunched beneath their feet, and the flowers in Finland's hands still have the glow it held when they left the flower shop.

They stopped in front of then place, and they already have the urge to go back. They just want to forget this.

_But they both know that they can't._

Gently placing the flowers down, Finland stayed like that for a while.

"I really hope that he forgives us."

"A false hope," Sweden muttered. Finland looked down.

False hope. Perhaps he should...

"U-Uh," an unfamiliar voice interuppted them, and they both looked back to see a boy holding out a balloon to them.

Sweden raised his brow. "Yes?"

"I-I just h-heard you guys talking and I f-figured out that maybe I s-should tell something," The boy continued. "N-No hope i-is fals-"

"Out of the question," Sweden said, his face tightening. He now is now facing the boy fully. "I'm sure that-"

"No," The kid is shaking, but he is trying to point out what he is saying. "I-I'm sure that he would forgive you. H-He does loves you, right?"

The balloon is still outstretched, and the wind blowing east made it sway gently. Finland stared at the boy, then smiled softly, for the first time since Denmark was buried beneath the land.

"I see," He took the boy's balloon. "So no hope is false, juu?" The younger child nodded.

Sweden studied the scene before him, and said, "What's your name, kid?"

"P-Peter."

"Then, Peter," Finland said, "thank you."

The kid curtsied, and bid farewell, muttering something about a 'jerkland'.

Finland looked at the balloon, then to Sweden. They both held the balloon, and let it fly.

_Let go._

The wind didn't pushed it eastward.

* * *

><p>"Let's pretend that you love me," Denmark said. "Even just in this dream."<p>

They were back on the window ledge, and snow is still falling. There were so much things that Norway wanted to say. To declare.

To admit.

"I don't need to pretend," Norway whispered, and he looked at those blue eyes that he never wanted to vanish. "I love you, Den. I really do."

Denmark laughed, and puffs of air escaped his mouth. "I know that, Norge."

_Even when he woke up, Norway still felt that Denmark meant more when he said that._

* * *

><p>Iceland gently closed the book, and he went up to Denmark's room.<p>

He placed the book back to it's original place, and he made himself comfortable in the bed.

He had slept in here for so many times when he was young because of fear, and because he really believed that Denmark would always be there.

For him, Denmark is the brother who stands up in front of him, and smiles when facing him.

And he is the brother that promised something he never forgot.

_"You could never lose your brother."_

* * *

><p>He won't deny it- Denmark is a romantic.<p>

_A good one._

He writes songs. He sings them. He smiles when he dedicate it to them.

And Norway won't deny that it always made butterflies fly in his stomach whenever he hears his voice, and he grew fond of these songs.

_He loves them._

He loves the way that they were written with strong dedications and feelings that were unbelievably flamboyant.

And he would find himself unconciously longing for the Dane's voice in the past, wanting to hear the melodies that build up the songs that contains a story.

Their story.

That's why when he was helping himself a coffee after waking in the middle of the night, he didn't stop himself from singing the words he wanted to hear. _Words he wanted to feel_.

_"...And you know it's haunting, but compared to your eyes, nothing shines quite as bright..."_

Upstairs, Iceland hummed along with his brother, eventually falling asleep.

* * *

><p><em>So let it go tonight<em>

_I see the beauty within your eyes_

_So let it go tonight_

* * *

><p><em>References:<em>

**_"__All Alone!_**

**_Whether you like it or not,_**

**_Alone will be something_**

**_you'll be quite alone"_**

_- Dr. Seuss, "Oh, the Places You'_ll_ Go! and The Lorax."_

**_"__So let it go tonight_**

**_I see the beauty within your eyes_**

**_So let it go tonight"_**

_-Such A Fool, George_

**__"...And you know it's haunting, but compared to your eyes, nothing shines quite as bright..."__**

__- Miserable At Best, Mayday Parade__

* * *

><p><strong><em>EXTRA:<em>**

_I felt my style of writing went weird at this chapter. I think this is the worse one yet. It's probably because it is an ungodly hour for me, and I'm apparently over caffeinated, my tablet is being a jerk, I'm hungry, and I need to retype this because my computer crashed. I'll have to say I am disappointed with myself with this one. (And, mein gott, there's so many reference that I can't pass this up like the previous ones.)_

_Anyway, thank you for those who are supporting this fic until now! To those who reviewed: **MiyaMaya**, **Red The Great**, **harajuku96 **, **ai-chan-neko-nya X3** , **Annie-The-Awesome**,** eripmavkiss** (Oh god... ;w; ) and, specially, **Lady Hetalia**! :3 I don't know when I'll be able to pop a AN, so I'm thanking all of you now~_


	7. Syvende

_**Where Is The Sun Now?**_

* * *

><p><em>Then maybe I'll sing a new song for you, and wipe those tears from your eyes. It sounds so impossible, but I promised. I promised, I promised.<em>

* * *

><p>Everyone always says to fight; don't give up hope. It's not as bad as it could have been. Time heals. Just choose life.<p>

But all these years, Denmark wondered what's around the corner. It just seemed so cliche, so unoriginal to keep pushing forward while your whole world falls apart. There had to be a backside. One that's wonderfully tragic.

A story of regret and shame, an existence of no hope.

_What happens if you choose death?_

He watched the ripples above him in a intoxicated silence. Everything down here was quiet and good. He couldn't hear those awful words anymore. He couldn't taste the pollution of their stabbing words. He couldn't smell the hatred in the room.

_He couldn't feel his heart anymore._

A drip from the faucet shook the stillness as it fell. His skin was numb. But just when the euphoria was released, a new, overwhelming feeling took its place.

Panic.

He couldn't breathe. A weight was crushing his chest. The silence was suffocating him. And then those murderous thoughts came crashing back, toppling the entire scale.

Petrified, he sprang out of the water. He took a deep breathe, and closed his eyes.

_Darkness._

What happens if you choose death?

_Nothing happens._

_You die._

* * *

><p>Norway knew that what he is doing is idiotic.<p>

Still, he never made a gesture, or a proof that he is going to stand up from laying down the snow.

The coldness ridiculously offered him comfort, and he found his mind wandering away as he felt himself being swept away by sleep.

Still with the melody in mind, he closed his eyes and dreamt.

* * *

><p>Iceland felt his heart skip a beat.<p>

His face produced a frown, and he rushed up to his brother, who is laying in the snow.

Call him a paranoid, if you will, but in his eyes, he looked half-dead.

"Brother, wake up." He frantically shook the older nation, and he felt relief wash over him when Norway groggily opened his eyes.

"Get inside. You'll catch a cold."

To be honest, he was scared.

He already lost Denmark- he can't afford to lose another one, too.

As he briefly glanced at his brother, who is now dozing off by the couch, he tried to figure out if it was purely coincidental- he mean, it's too similar, right?

He glanced away.

What he read at the notebook made him involuntarily bite his lips.

* * *

><p><em>Today I laid in the snow, to see if anything would happen. Nothing did. No one came to take me away from the cold snow. <em>

* * *

><p><em>50 flowers, all of them different. <em>

50 flowers, with two extras. England is dropped with a lot of work, so he told America to give the condolence.

_50 flowers, from all of his 50 different states, with two extras from him and England._

He briefly recalled him as the tall, blonde guy that loves the other Nordics.

Michigan, Minnesota, Wisconsin ... almost all of them were saddened by the Dane's death.

Placing the flowers down, he cannot believe that such a... cheerful and colorful guy would vanish.

_Just like that._

* * *

><p>Denmark watched with distant, glassy eyes.<p>

_I thought they wanted me to be gone._

Sighing, he wish he could go and apologize to them. Sweden and Finland seems to be okay- and he is relieved that Peter-Sealand- helped them.

But he was worried for Norway and Iceland. That's why he wanted to tell them that he is sorry. So they would stop moping around and blaming themselves.

_But he is already dead._

A hand rested itself on his shoulder, and he turned around, just to be face-to-face with the person he never imagined that he would see, after all these years.

"_You could still visit them, son_."

* * *

><p>Norway could not believe what's happening.<p>

He knows that Iceland left a while ago- he heard the boy leave the house.

He doesn't know if he should feel petrified, angry, baffled, or maybe he is just plainly confused.

Because right infront of him, a certain Dane is looking straight through him.

"Oh, god, _please tell me I'm not dreaming_," Norway muttered. "My eyes were wide open, aren't they?"

Denmark sighed. "You don't have to close your eyes to dream," He softly said, "Keep them open. Time might leave you behind if you keep your eyes closed for a too long." He blinked, and by then Norway realized that maybe _this _is true.

"Anyway," He grinned. "I see that you miss me, Norge."

"Don't get your head too big," Norway tried to glare, but he can't. "but yeah, we missed you."

"I know." Denmark sang, and suddenly, he hugged Norway, hoping the Norway won't, just for this time, resist.

_He didn't._

Instead, Norway hugged him, tighter than those half-hearted hugs in the past.

"You know, Norge, I miss you, too." A whisper.

And then he broke down, sobbing and crying on Denmark's shoulder, not caring anymore if he was simply imagining this, or if it's really true. He cried, and he never let Denmark go.

Denmark held him close.

"I-I'm sorry," He choked the word out. "I should've told you the truth... that day, I should've never left you. I hate myself for telling you those lies and making you cry," He clutched Denmark's shirt, and cried down to the floor.

"I should've told you ...how sorry I am..."All of these years, he never wanted to express his emotions, because emotions make you weak, right? But here he is now, in the middle of the living room, wailing as the long-before-dead Dane is holding him. "I w-wanted to make things r-right, but I held my pride. I-I should've told you. I'm sorry," Denmark held him closer. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

"It's alright," Denmark softly rocked him back and forth, and he kissed the top of his head. "Shh, it's alright..."

Denmark whispered, lulling norway back to sleep with his sweet nothings. He softly sings, and he tucked Norway back to the sofa. He gently deattached himself from Norway's grip, no matter how much he wanted to stay.

_Of course he can't._

Norway mumbled something, and a small, genuine smile appeared on Denmark's face. Without an another word, he bent down, and plant a gentle kiss on Norway's lips.

He felt the tears fall down, and he softly laughed. He didn't fail to realize that it's a different laugh-it didn't hurt his heart anymore. If anything, it felt comforting.

And as he hum and made his depart, he whispered a sentence that no longer impale his feelings.

"_I love you, Norge. Never forget that._"

* * *

><p>When Norway woke up, suprisingly, with a light feeling.<p>

He rubbed his eyes and prepared a coffee.

_He still felt his lips_.

* * *

><p>"What the..."<p>

When Iceland arrived on the grave, there were 52 flowers, all of different kinds, but they were neatly arranged inside a bouquet.

"What is it with people giving flowers when it snow?" He scowled, but then he realized that he _is _giving one, today.

He crouched in front o the grave, and he refuse to acknowledge that beneath him is Denmark's body.

_Liar. _He felt his lips form a thin line for the upteenth time.

"I didn't lie, you know."

He knows that voice. His head perked up, and he don't know whether his heart is racing, or if it is skipping a beat.

"D-Denmark?"

He turned around, and came face-to-face with the Dane. He made a small sound of agreement.

Iceland never looked away. So now he's deluding that Denmark is here?

"It's true," Denmark took a step forward, the snow crunching beneath his feet. "You won't lose me, see?"

And he hugged Iceland, just like how he hugged Norway.

The younger nation just closed his eyes, and let himself melt in the Dane's arms.

_Just this once..._

* * *

><p><em>Even if I dream a thoudand stars, I want you in my arms tonight.<em>

* * *

><p><em>EXTRA:<em>

_I'm sorry for the horrible update. School is sucking the ideas out of me and I want to smash anything in the classroom. _

_In fact, I want to kill my groupmates. I'm not a superhero, damnit! They dumped all their work to me!_

_*cough* That aside, I know that this is short, and, uh, I want you all to know that this fic is about to end._

_...I think that is pretty obvious._

_Maybe a chapter or two, then BAM~ we're done._

_And, Mein Gott, thank you guys! I love you all! Your reviews are comforting. And it made me fell all warm and fuzzy~ Ahaha._

_And Lady Hetalia, I tried. I really tried. _

_...I can't. America's scene is the closest thing I could write. ;_ ;_

Again, Sorry for this short update. I promise I would update soon when exams are over. Thank you guys~!


	8. End

_**Where Is The Sun Now?**_

* * *

><p><em>Closing time; Every new beginnings come from some other beginnings' end.<em>

* * *

><p>Iceland awoke in the smell of steaming coffee and comforting silence.<p>

When he entered the kitchen, he saw Norway by the table, sipping his coffeee while looking outside.

He turned his head and saw him. "Oh, you're awake."

"You lifted me up from the cemetery?" He pointed to the couch.

"Half-dragged, actually," the other nation continued, as Iceland looked back to the doorway.

_So that's why there's snow inside._

Silence filled the moment, but they were not that suffocating anymore.

_It was more like anticipating something._

* * *

><p>Russia reluctantly stole an another glance at Belarus for the millionth time.<p>

He knew that Denmark's death was caused because he was neglected. Left alone.

_Unloved._

And he couldn't help but worry.

"What is it, brother?" Belarus snapped, then she sighed. The first time she felt his eyes linger on her, she felt good, but it's starting to wear her down.

_She doesn't even chase him anymore these days._

"Nothing, sister," He paused, then he asked, "But could you answer something?"

Belarus signaled him to continue.

"...Are you going to leave me?"

Belarus froze.

Then she laughed.

She laughed so genuinely, that Russia briefly wondered if he finally made his sister crack.

But hands down, her laughter is the sweetest sound he have ever heard.

That, and Belarus' "Of course _not._" made him better.

And he vow to cheris his sister from then on.

* * *

><p><em>It doesn't make sense to him on why people pretend not to see him.<em>

He hate it whenever those moments come up.

_It must've been fun for them_, he thought, _but it is his fault for giving up, right?_

But now, when Prussia lay down on his couch with him, talking and asking him, it's not that bad. Especially now that France, England and America checks up on him.

_It's not that bad_, he thought, as he rest his head on Prussia's shoulder and answer him.

_He found himself thanking Denmark._

* * *

><p>"Finland?"<p>

Finland looked behind him, and he saw Sweden walking towards him.

"I could feel him," Finland smiled as the ocean breeze toyed with their hair. "He's watching us."

Sweden looked at the sky for a while, then he closed his eyes.

"_He is."_

* * *

><p>The Dane beamed down from above, his face clearly showing contentment and happiness.<p>

"You're finally done, son?"

Roman Empire came up from behind, and he looked down, like the Dane.

Denmark nodded, his features softening.

There were silence,and both continued to look down, watching the nations.

"It's a beautiful world, isn't it?"

Denmark took this moment to stare at them, see them smile, talk, and, well, love each other. Even if his presence is not there, he could somehow feel that he's a part of them.

_"It is."_

* * *

><p>"He hasn't really left , you know," Iceland said, after a while.<p>

"I can still feel him."

Norway looked at him.

"I-I know this might sound corny," Iceland continued, looking at his hands. "but I could still feel him. I-In my heart."

The older nation stared at him, and inside, Iceland began panicking. "I-Is that weird?"

"No," Norway finally said, cracking a small smile. for the first time. "I could feel him, too."

He looked at his reflection on the coffee.

_He could feel him._

* * *

><p>What is an echo?<p>

_The persistance of a sound after the source has stopped._

When is an echo formed?

_When it is silent, and other sounds are absorbed._

When it's silent, Norway could still hear Denmark's echo.

He could feel him, like what Iceland said.

And he believe that the world has learned a lesson; they should cherish everything they could, because time is limited; it wouldn't stop and wait for you to realize something you should've already in the past.

Like what Denmark said, time may leave you,

Smiling as he lift the cat that he has named Den-cat (with the other Nordics, of course) because of the resemblance, Norway stepped unto the veranda and stared at the white fields.

_He found himself himself softly laughing when the wind blew to his direction._

* * *

><p><em>Døden vil ikke gøre os en del. ~ Death will not do us part<em>

* * *

><p><em>End.<em>

* * *

><p><strong><em>EXTRA:<em>**

_Lucky 8!_

_After 8 chapters, we are finally done._

_I originally planned 9 chapters to end it, but while I'm writing this chapter, I was like, "Whoa. It's an ending."_

_Then boom._

_I'm sorry, I'm never particularly good with endings. The echo part is associated with chapter 5, by the way._

_I SERIOUSLY LOVE YOU GUYS. More than I love coffee. And that's a lot. I'm a bit sad when I finished the last chapter- now I don't have something to look forward to; I had fun writing it~!_

_Sorry if I have to insert PruCan and BelaRussia. It just... fits. So I'll shamelessly promote the DenNor FST (fanmix!) that I made. The link is on my profile- it's like the soundtrack of this fic, actually._

_I can't express my gratitude enough, especially to those who reviewed to almost every chapter, when you totally didn't have also, to those who favorited and alerted this story- I love you guys. _

_Sorry for any mistakes in this chapter- this is updated while I was studying for Algebra in the middle of the night. I'm sorry I can't fix them._

_This is the last chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed this story, as much as I enjoyed writing it._

_I wish you all a happy life~ _


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